Monday, January 30, 2006
Why am I not dressed yet?
To recap the things that actually happened:
The doctor had me describe my symptoms, then told me that what was wrong with me was wrong with everyone right now, including himself--an upper respiratory infection--and that there was jack shit you could do about it. He prescribed time and a buttload of OTC meds. Robitussin tastes like ass, but I got Sudafed that apparently isn't pseudoephedrine-based, so it hasn't made me all speedy so far. Maybe that's why it isn't actually helping.
A.S.S.S.S.C.A.T. was funny shit, as was Pretty, Pretty Pony. Will Arnett (GOB on Arrested Development) talked at length about drugs, as per audience suggestion, and Amy Poehler, Rachel Dratch, Matt Besser, and Horatio Sanz improvised sketches from his stories. Ian Roberts missed his Southwest flight, preventing it from being a full complement.
We ended up going to see The Real Dirt on Farmer John Saturday night and Match Point on Sunday. Both were enjoyable. Crash I rented far too late to have a fresh opinion on; I've lately read too many mocking, negative reviews, and I'm kind of a sucker for mockery. But I learned some valuable lessons about the racist in all of us, I'm sure. I watched Tarnation Friday night, which was fucked up and kind of like a horror movie, for what it was. Then we got back into Arrested Development with disc 1 of season 2, including the awesome "Afternoon Delight" episode. Come on!
There has been no cat visiting yet. I'm taking the second shift, though I don't know when it starts yet.
Shit. It's time for clothes and work.
The doctor had me describe my symptoms, then told me that what was wrong with me was wrong with everyone right now, including himself--an upper respiratory infection--and that there was jack shit you could do about it. He prescribed time and a buttload of OTC meds. Robitussin tastes like ass, but I got Sudafed that apparently isn't pseudoephedrine-based, so it hasn't made me all speedy so far. Maybe that's why it isn't actually helping.
A.S.S.S.S.C.A.T. was funny shit, as was Pretty, Pretty Pony. Will Arnett (GOB on Arrested Development) talked at length about drugs, as per audience suggestion, and Amy Poehler, Rachel Dratch, Matt Besser, and Horatio Sanz improvised sketches from his stories. Ian Roberts missed his Southwest flight, preventing it from being a full complement.
We ended up going to see The Real Dirt on Farmer John Saturday night and Match Point on Sunday. Both were enjoyable. Crash I rented far too late to have a fresh opinion on; I've lately read too many mocking, negative reviews, and I'm kind of a sucker for mockery. But I learned some valuable lessons about the racist in all of us, I'm sure. I watched Tarnation Friday night, which was fucked up and kind of like a horror movie, for what it was. Then we got back into Arrested Development with disc 1 of season 2, including the awesome "Afternoon Delight" episode. Come on!
There has been no cat visiting yet. I'm taking the second shift, though I don't know when it starts yet.
Shit. It's time for clothes and work.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Four things to come.
1. Doctor's appointment. I hope to receive a magical prescription. One coworker told me to get some vicodin, not that this would help with being stuffed up at all, but I could sell it, she said. Then she said she was kidding. Then she said it was a cough suppressant, so maybe I should fake a cough.
2. UCB ASSSCAT, SF Sketchfest, the Eureka Theater. I don't even remember what this is supposed to be, but if it isn't funny, I will be confused.
3. Things to watch, including more Arrested Development, Crash, the most debated film of the year, and maybe The Real Dirt on Farmer John.
4. Cat visiting. I have been asked to look after my friends' cats for a few days while they're out of town. I have never been responsible for cats, but I think I can manage for a brief time, especially when they are such awesome cats as these.
My oldest friend asked me to be a bridesmaid in her upcoming wedding. That's a first for me, and I'd be happy to stand up with her.
This doctor tomorrow better figure out what the hell is wrong with me. I am fucking sick of not having the use of my sinuses.
2. UCB ASSSCAT, SF Sketchfest, the Eureka Theater. I don't even remember what this is supposed to be, but if it isn't funny, I will be confused.
3. Things to watch, including more Arrested Development, Crash, the most debated film of the year, and maybe The Real Dirt on Farmer John.
4. Cat visiting. I have been asked to look after my friends' cats for a few days while they're out of town. I have never been responsible for cats, but I think I can manage for a brief time, especially when they are such awesome cats as these.
My oldest friend asked me to be a bridesmaid in her upcoming wedding. That's a first for me, and I'd be happy to stand up with her.
This doctor tomorrow better figure out what the hell is wrong with me. I am fucking sick of not having the use of my sinuses.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Sickness.
I've had some nagging stuffed-uppedness for weeks now, but yesterday it got worse. I'm home sick, though I went to my office to email myself some things and grab some papers. I actually went so far as to get myself a doctor's appointment, though one apparently wasn't available until this coming Friday. If I don't start to feel much better today, I'm going to call the nurse hotline and get them to sneak me in today or tomorrow, maybe.
But before all that, there was a fun weekend, really. Friday night Kevin and I went to see Colin Meloy and Laura Veirs, which was lovely besides some annoying drunks. Prior to that, we ate dinner at Chaat Paradise, where, among other things, I ordered a muli paratha, which is bread stuffed with white radish (like daikon) and served with raita, which also has radish in it. I'm not sure it overtakes spinach paratha, but it was damn good, and went much better with the raita.
Do you like how I can talk more about the meal than the show we went to see?
On Saturday, we went to SFMOMA, then met up with my sister in Union Square. She took us to the creatively named Indonesia Restaurant (at Post and Jones), where we ate some delicious coconut rice, crunchy tempeh, and spicy vegetable soup. After lots of walking around, we took our leave of her, and I felt tired and bitchy and my feet hurt and wow am I ever a lot of fun to hang out with, but we went to Cobb's Comedy Club to see Wanda Sykes, and it was all better.
Oh, and since I didn't write about it, the Mr. Show Q&A last week was excellent. The only weird thing about comedy clubs, to me, is how they actually enforce the two drink minimum. I've seen a lot of rock clubs with that printed on the ticket, but I've never seen anyone enforce it. The cheapest thing on the menu is a $3.50 bottle of water. Soda and coffee are $4. Seriously. I understand it, though.
And DVDs this week: The Lost Boys of Sudan was not as depressing as I expected, and the refugees in it reminded me a lot of my brother (my older Cambodian brother) and his friends' experiences coming from the Thai camps as unaccompanied minors. End of Suburbia was not very well-argued; it was just lefty propaganda, and as a lefty, it felt preachy and annoying. I don't doubt they were telling some truths, but my god. Tell it better. Interview people who aren't just pushing their own books. Mean Girls was decently entertaining. Bob Roberts was depressing and funny in a not-ha ha way.
What else? Nothing. Just sick. Fuck.
But before all that, there was a fun weekend, really. Friday night Kevin and I went to see Colin Meloy and Laura Veirs, which was lovely besides some annoying drunks. Prior to that, we ate dinner at Chaat Paradise, where, among other things, I ordered a muli paratha, which is bread stuffed with white radish (like daikon) and served with raita, which also has radish in it. I'm not sure it overtakes spinach paratha, but it was damn good, and went much better with the raita.
Do you like how I can talk more about the meal than the show we went to see?
On Saturday, we went to SFMOMA, then met up with my sister in Union Square. She took us to the creatively named Indonesia Restaurant (at Post and Jones), where we ate some delicious coconut rice, crunchy tempeh, and spicy vegetable soup. After lots of walking around, we took our leave of her, and I felt tired and bitchy and my feet hurt and wow am I ever a lot of fun to hang out with, but we went to Cobb's Comedy Club to see Wanda Sykes, and it was all better.
Oh, and since I didn't write about it, the Mr. Show Q&A last week was excellent. The only weird thing about comedy clubs, to me, is how they actually enforce the two drink minimum. I've seen a lot of rock clubs with that printed on the ticket, but I've never seen anyone enforce it. The cheapest thing on the menu is a $3.50 bottle of water. Soda and coffee are $4. Seriously. I understand it, though.
And DVDs this week: The Lost Boys of Sudan was not as depressing as I expected, and the refugees in it reminded me a lot of my brother (my older Cambodian brother) and his friends' experiences coming from the Thai camps as unaccompanied minors. End of Suburbia was not very well-argued; it was just lefty propaganda, and as a lefty, it felt preachy and annoying. I don't doubt they were telling some truths, but my god. Tell it better. Interview people who aren't just pushing their own books. Mean Girls was decently entertaining. Bob Roberts was depressing and funny in a not-ha ha way.
What else? Nothing. Just sick. Fuck.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Cognitive dissonance.
In March, Belle and Sebastian will be playing San Francisco with the New Pornographers. I am lately in love with the New Pornographers and will definitely be picking up tickets when they go on sale this weekend. They're $30. This is no problem at all.
But here's the thing. I hate Belle and Sebastian.
It's true. I hate their twee little sound. I hate their pussy excuse for energy. I hate it when their music comes on while I'm driving because I think I am going to fall asleep and get into a car wreck. But everyone I know loves them, certainly including anyone who'd go to the show with me.
I'm open to the possibility that they will impress me with their live show. I really am. But mostly I'm just hoping not to be a party pooper.
But here's the thing. I hate Belle and Sebastian.
It's true. I hate their twee little sound. I hate their pussy excuse for energy. I hate it when their music comes on while I'm driving because I think I am going to fall asleep and get into a car wreck. But everyone I know loves them, certainly including anyone who'd go to the show with me.
I'm open to the possibility that they will impress me with their live show. I really am. But mostly I'm just hoping not to be a party pooper.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Continuations.
It's another Saturday morning, and I'm preparing to re-dye my hair. Long's had a 2-for-1 sale on my dye, what luck. I have in front of me a pair of scrambled eggs with a tiny bit of shredded smoked gouda and black pepper on top with a side of whole wheat sourdough toast and raspberry preserves. I'll have some juice, take some vitamins, and be ready to make 1/4-inch parts in my hair by pumping gooey black dye. It is a good breakfast.
Last night, I went on the Winchester Mystery House flashlight tour with the Editor and Jenn. It is pretty much the same as the daylight tour, but mildly spookier because it's dark and there are lots of bizarre crevices and unlit open spaces behind unfinished walls and such. It's so strange to me that this is the tourist attraction it is, but it is in some ways analagous to San Jose. It's large and sprawling and full of things that make you go "What the fuck?" and "Wow, that's pretty neat," but mostly things you just pass by. It's at once not at all cool yet not totally lame. It also looks cooler from above.
Prior to that, we had dinner at Consuelo's in Santana Row, which was notable for the guacamole they make at your table and serve with tiny, fresh corn tortillas instead of chips. Awesome.
Tomorrow, Kevin and I have tickets to the Mr. Show Q&A in San Francisco, so we'll be heading up to the city for that and try to work in some time in the Haight and a visit to my sister (at least to return her suitcase). Kevin recently decided to like coffee again (though he will argue that he always did, it just didn't agree with his stomach, but with a little vanilla soymilk, all is well), so I am open to coffee shop suggestions for tomorrow. Hippie places with organic/fair trade/shade grown coffee will be given preference provided the coffee they make is delicious. (Jess, I know about your Campbell recs, and I still need to try the one downtown sometime.)
I'm trying to get through my Netflix rentals this weekend because I hate holding onto things for so long. We watched the first two discs of Arrested Development last week, even though we'd already seen at least half of them, and I got around to Pink Flamingos last night. It was a psychic assault, really fucked up, and...I actually kind of enjoyed it. Today I am scheming to watch both depressing documentaries, The Lost Boys of Sudan and The End of Suburbia.
But first, the darkeninger of my hair.
I love you more than my hair color.
Last night, I went on the Winchester Mystery House flashlight tour with the Editor and Jenn. It is pretty much the same as the daylight tour, but mildly spookier because it's dark and there are lots of bizarre crevices and unlit open spaces behind unfinished walls and such. It's so strange to me that this is the tourist attraction it is, but it is in some ways analagous to San Jose. It's large and sprawling and full of things that make you go "What the fuck?" and "Wow, that's pretty neat," but mostly things you just pass by. It's at once not at all cool yet not totally lame. It also looks cooler from above.
Prior to that, we had dinner at Consuelo's in Santana Row, which was notable for the guacamole they make at your table and serve with tiny, fresh corn tortillas instead of chips. Awesome.
Tomorrow, Kevin and I have tickets to the Mr. Show Q&A in San Francisco, so we'll be heading up to the city for that and try to work in some time in the Haight and a visit to my sister (at least to return her suitcase). Kevin recently decided to like coffee again (though he will argue that he always did, it just didn't agree with his stomach, but with a little vanilla soymilk, all is well), so I am open to coffee shop suggestions for tomorrow. Hippie places with organic/fair trade/shade grown coffee will be given preference provided the coffee they make is delicious. (Jess, I know about your Campbell recs, and I still need to try the one downtown sometime.)
I'm trying to get through my Netflix rentals this weekend because I hate holding onto things for so long. We watched the first two discs of Arrested Development last week, even though we'd already seen at least half of them, and I got around to Pink Flamingos last night. It was a psychic assault, really fucked up, and...I actually kind of enjoyed it. Today I am scheming to watch both depressing documentaries, The Lost Boys of Sudan and The End of Suburbia.
But first, the darkeninger of my hair.
I love you more than my hair color.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Frog not blog.
It has been another set of forevers, hasn't it? Happy New Year and merry Christmas and Hanukkah and whatever else you've been celebrating out there in Internetland.
Since I last wrote, of course, plenty has happened. That's why I wasn't writing. I mean, shit, the blog loses out whether I'm busy as fuck or I'm bored to tears, and you'd have to assume going to the Northwest for a week and change doesn't qualify as "bored to tears." Or if you do, you are mean.
The trip went something like this: Four nights in Seaside with the family, one night in Olympia where Becky and her mom were briefly visited, one night in Portland/Beaverton where I crashed with my old friend Rachel, a train ride up to Seattle where I met up with Jenny for lunch, hauling all my shit around the I-district until Chris could come down with his big blue stallion (I mean, Volvo) and pick my ass up and let me stay on his couch for the next three nights.
The family part was good. The weather in Seaside was crap, so we hardly even went outside, but there were enough VH1 and Bravo reality TV marathons to keep us all busy for days. Well, and food prep and my nieces and the like. I got some good stuff (including a lovely new bag and another year of Netflix, meaning I will never have to pay to rent movies again, seemingly) and gave just as well, I think. The best, of course, was mom's black iPod nano, the cost of which my sister and I split. After my holiday bonus windfall, I also felt like buying her more presents, so I went to the Nordstrom Rack and found a nice pair of black Josef Seibel mary janes, figuring she'd end up returning them* so it was essentially a gift certificate, but she ended up putting them on and not wanting the receipt.
I wish I could've spent more time in Olympia. It always seems like hanging out with Becky is something that happens between other things (for her as well, no doubt) and that's sad.
Rachel has a new boyfriend, one her mother likes and seems to treat her well. She is a good friend for putting on a bathrobe and slippers at 6:45 am to drive me to the MAX station.
Seattle was great. Everyone told me to move back and part of me does want to. It's the part that's irresponsible, but still. I hadn't seen Jenny in ages, and she's so funny. The first couple times I called her to make plans, she answered the phone saying, "Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god!" because I guess it's just *that* special to receive a call from me.
There was a Harem party on Friday night that everyone came to. Well, everyone except Adam, who showed up the next day for some pre-Harem/Lander 7 (Christine, Josie, Graylan, Adam, and I make up that group) sandwiching, and Jen, who came to the New Year's Eve party instead. Anyway, I definitely saw everyone else that night, including my other old RA (who didn't quite remember my name, hah!). Reid hosted at her new house in Lynnwood, the house she and her fiance bought, which is impressive to the rest of us unattached leaseholders. The party was almost chaotic in its kitchenful of 20-somethings catching up. After almost everyone else left (mostly for other parties), Chris, Graylan, and I stayed and hung out with Reid and watched Bad(der) Santa, which was still just as funny to me and Chris as when we saw it in the theater and more funny to Reid and Graylan who hated it when they first saw it.
The people I saw the most of were Chris and Lauren, which is never a bad thing. More Chris than Lauren, of course, because he was doing nothing but preparation and shopping for his New Year's Eve gala and I went along for the ride (and because I have a Costco card). All his prep did not go to waste: the party went off beautifully, with ex-girlfriends and Something Awful goons and space house roommates and old friends mingling into the new year. Also, and do not judge me, but I was pretty drunk. This managed to be fun and not scary at all. The drunken New Year's Eve party experience was kind of a new one for me, and I reveled in it.
Until the end of the night, when all the guests had left and the people staying were getting ready to crash, a handful of partying neighbors showed up. One of them was drunk and gregarious to the point of hugging me and lifting me as part of the hug. We offered him some water, which he accepted, then turned and tried to give me another fizzy lifting hug but didn't keep his grip, so I fell backwards into a bookcase, hitting my head. They all left after that. I had a pretty nasty bruise on the back of my head, but no serious damage.
I slept like crap and I had a bad headache I can only assume came from the blow to the head, but it all went away with some coffee and an ibuprofen, so I was hangover-free. Chris called me out for my Irish heritage.
The next morning, Jana convened a delicious breakfast at Portage Bay Cafe which Tom, Josie, Danger, Graylan, and I attended. After that, she and Tom gave me a lift to the King Street Station, where I checked my bags and got some lunch at Uwajimaya and contemplated my foolish decision not to just pay to change my flight from Portland to Seattle.
This week has been back to work as usual. Well, one day I tried out my new New Balances, which hurt my toes to the point of numbness within 10 minutes of starting out. Unfortunately, I was also trying to get to work, and my boss spotted me walking down Winchester and, confused, pulled over to give me a lift the rest of the way. I think next time I will just wear my old Reeboks, which are at least broken in enough not to hurt that bad. This time I will also have a coffee thermos so it won't get cold like it did in my silly water bottle.
I'm cleaning my apartment this weekend, and damn if it isn't roomy. I also bought a vacuum cleaner. And I need to call Comcast and give their billing department hell.
Oh, and I finally saw Brokeback Mountain. It's gonna win awards, but it didn't *feel* like it--I mean, it didn't feel like obvious and horrible Oscar whoring, it just felt like a quality film. A sad fucking quality film.
* Mom is notoriously bad at finding shoes that meet with her feet's satisfaction. For some time, the only shoes she ever wore were a particular model of New Balances. However, due to her recent weight loss (100+ lbs. in a year--she looks amazing), her feet are not as wide and that makes a huge difference. I say this not to embarrass her, only to explain the gravity of buying her shoes that fit that she didn't personally try on millions of sizes of before actually buying.
Since I last wrote, of course, plenty has happened. That's why I wasn't writing. I mean, shit, the blog loses out whether I'm busy as fuck or I'm bored to tears, and you'd have to assume going to the Northwest for a week and change doesn't qualify as "bored to tears." Or if you do, you are mean.
The trip went something like this: Four nights in Seaside with the family, one night in Olympia where Becky and her mom were briefly visited, one night in Portland/Beaverton where I crashed with my old friend Rachel, a train ride up to Seattle where I met up with Jenny for lunch, hauling all my shit around the I-district until Chris could come down with his big blue stallion (I mean, Volvo) and pick my ass up and let me stay on his couch for the next three nights.
The family part was good. The weather in Seaside was crap, so we hardly even went outside, but there were enough VH1 and Bravo reality TV marathons to keep us all busy for days. Well, and food prep and my nieces and the like. I got some good stuff (including a lovely new bag and another year of Netflix, meaning I will never have to pay to rent movies again, seemingly) and gave just as well, I think. The best, of course, was mom's black iPod nano, the cost of which my sister and I split. After my holiday bonus windfall, I also felt like buying her more presents, so I went to the Nordstrom Rack and found a nice pair of black Josef Seibel mary janes, figuring she'd end up returning them* so it was essentially a gift certificate, but she ended up putting them on and not wanting the receipt.
I wish I could've spent more time in Olympia. It always seems like hanging out with Becky is something that happens between other things (for her as well, no doubt) and that's sad.
Rachel has a new boyfriend, one her mother likes and seems to treat her well. She is a good friend for putting on a bathrobe and slippers at 6:45 am to drive me to the MAX station.
Seattle was great. Everyone told me to move back and part of me does want to. It's the part that's irresponsible, but still. I hadn't seen Jenny in ages, and she's so funny. The first couple times I called her to make plans, she answered the phone saying, "Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god!" because I guess it's just *that* special to receive a call from me.
There was a Harem party on Friday night that everyone came to. Well, everyone except Adam, who showed up the next day for some pre-Harem/Lander 7 (Christine, Josie, Graylan, Adam, and I make up that group) sandwiching, and Jen, who came to the New Year's Eve party instead. Anyway, I definitely saw everyone else that night, including my other old RA (who didn't quite remember my name, hah!). Reid hosted at her new house in Lynnwood, the house she and her fiance bought, which is impressive to the rest of us unattached leaseholders. The party was almost chaotic in its kitchenful of 20-somethings catching up. After almost everyone else left (mostly for other parties), Chris, Graylan, and I stayed and hung out with Reid and watched Bad(der) Santa, which was still just as funny to me and Chris as when we saw it in the theater and more funny to Reid and Graylan who hated it when they first saw it.
The people I saw the most of were Chris and Lauren, which is never a bad thing. More Chris than Lauren, of course, because he was doing nothing but preparation and shopping for his New Year's Eve gala and I went along for the ride (and because I have a Costco card). All his prep did not go to waste: the party went off beautifully, with ex-girlfriends and Something Awful goons and space house roommates and old friends mingling into the new year. Also, and do not judge me, but I was pretty drunk. This managed to be fun and not scary at all. The drunken New Year's Eve party experience was kind of a new one for me, and I reveled in it.
Until the end of the night, when all the guests had left and the people staying were getting ready to crash, a handful of partying neighbors showed up. One of them was drunk and gregarious to the point of hugging me and lifting me as part of the hug. We offered him some water, which he accepted, then turned and tried to give me another fizzy lifting hug but didn't keep his grip, so I fell backwards into a bookcase, hitting my head. They all left after that. I had a pretty nasty bruise on the back of my head, but no serious damage.
I slept like crap and I had a bad headache I can only assume came from the blow to the head, but it all went away with some coffee and an ibuprofen, so I was hangover-free. Chris called me out for my Irish heritage.
The next morning, Jana convened a delicious breakfast at Portage Bay Cafe which Tom, Josie, Danger, Graylan, and I attended. After that, she and Tom gave me a lift to the King Street Station, where I checked my bags and got some lunch at Uwajimaya and contemplated my foolish decision not to just pay to change my flight from Portland to Seattle.
This week has been back to work as usual. Well, one day I tried out my new New Balances, which hurt my toes to the point of numbness within 10 minutes of starting out. Unfortunately, I was also trying to get to work, and my boss spotted me walking down Winchester and, confused, pulled over to give me a lift the rest of the way. I think next time I will just wear my old Reeboks, which are at least broken in enough not to hurt that bad. This time I will also have a coffee thermos so it won't get cold like it did in my silly water bottle.
I'm cleaning my apartment this weekend, and damn if it isn't roomy. I also bought a vacuum cleaner. And I need to call Comcast and give their billing department hell.
Oh, and I finally saw Brokeback Mountain. It's gonna win awards, but it didn't *feel* like it--I mean, it didn't feel like obvious and horrible Oscar whoring, it just felt like a quality film. A sad fucking quality film.
* Mom is notoriously bad at finding shoes that meet with her feet's satisfaction. For some time, the only shoes she ever wore were a particular model of New Balances. However, due to her recent weight loss (100+ lbs. in a year--she looks amazing), her feet are not as wide and that makes a huge difference. I say this not to embarrass her, only to explain the gravity of buying her shoes that fit that she didn't personally try on millions of sizes of before actually buying.
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